


Hypothetically

by alisvolatpropiis



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, Bottom Derek Hale/Top Stiles Stilinski, Comeplay, Derek has a manbun, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Older Derek, Rimming, Stiles Loses His Virginity, Surfer Derek, Virgin Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisvolatpropiis/pseuds/alisvolatpropiis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning asthe sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to who he’s looking at.</p><p>Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. That is So the Right Answer

**Author's Note:**

> Manbun'd surfer Derek, now with a smutty chapter two! Chapter one was a [tumblr ficlet](http://deleted-scenes.tumblr.com/post/112853027207/for-the-amazing-notenoughgatorade-who-is-in-need) for the rad-as-hell [notenoughgatorade](http://www.notenoughgatorade.tumblr.com), and chapter two is for the incredible [bleep0bleep](http://www.bleep0bleep.tumblr.com), who made this [delightful photoset](http://deleted-scenes.tumblr.com/post/113470830917/hypothetically-by-deleted-scenes-not-rated)! Carrie requested virgin Stiles and bottom Derek, and that combination was just waaaaaay too tempting to pass up.
> 
> Chapter one is fluff and feels from Stiles' POV, and chapter two is smut and feels from Derek's POV. Enjoy! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and for your lovely comments. XOXO

Stiles holds his hand up to shield his eyes from the sinking sun, its orange-yellow light reflected infinitely across the vast, calm ocean. As utterly stunning asthe sunset over the Pacific is, especially while floating leisurely on a surfboard a few hundred feet from shore, it’s a mere backdrop that pales in comparison to _who_ he’s looking at.

Derek Hale, whose eyes are their own oceans that Stiles feels like he’s been floating on since the first time they met. The older man’s eyes are as ever-changing and colorful as the sea they’ve spent the day on, a palette of greens and blues filigreed with gold around the pupils. And if that weren’t enough, the rest of Derek is also transcendentally exquisite: high, arching cheekbones and a chiseled jaw, although that particular perfection is a bit obscured these days by his ever-thickening beard, night-black like his hair, nearly shoulder-length but almost always knotted in a messy bun at the crown of his head.

Stiles has been good today, all through his first surfing lesson, not letting himself get too distracted by Derek in a skintight wetsuit, but now that they’re done, soaking up the last of the sun while straddling their boards side-by-side, softly bobbing up and down on the gently swaying waves, Stiles lets himself look, _really_ look at Derek’s muscular, strong body. That’s a mistake, of course, because once again he’s caught up in a rush of yearning attraction for his friend and has to battle the familiar frustration that that’s all they’ll ever be.

Stiles asked Derek out once, three weeks into their human anatomy class for which they were lab partners. It was a longshot, he knew, hitting on not only the hottest human he’s ever seen, but one fifteen years older than him too. Stiles is only nineteen, a sophomore, and Derek is thirty-four, coming back to college to finish his bachelor’s after spending his twenties and early thirties as a professional surfer. Derek had smiled sympathetically at him, a little strained, like he was accustomed to wide-eyed adoration and hero-worship, which was only a little bit of what Stiles was feeling. Derek gently told him that he didn’t “think that would be a good idea,” and Stiles had responded by clumsily gathering up his things and stumbling out of the lab, not waiting around to hear Derek explain why he was rejecting him.

He had almost skipped the next lab, but thankfully he didn’t, because when he arrived and took his usual seat next to Derek, he had looked over at him in relief, smiling, and Stiles realized that he was thrilled just to know him and damn lucky to be his friend. And then, despite that slightly awkward beginning, their age difference and very different life experiences, they became something like best friends. Derek likes to tease Stiles about being a mouthy spaz, and Stiles gets a special joy from mocking Derek’s advanced age. They have similar senses of humor, even though Derek is more reserved, and they like the same movies and tv shows, and after the semester ended they still hung out even though they didn’t have a class together anymore, and they’ve been practically inseparable for almost seven months now.

As friends, Stiles reminds himself, eyes tracking over the unfairly broad and strong slope of Derek’s shoulders. His friendship with Derek means everything to him, and no matter how in love with him he might be, he’s going to respect Derek’s wishes.

“So,” Stiles says, breaking their long, comfortable silence, pulling Derek’s gaze away from the sunset and towards him, making his stomach swoop and twist in ways that have nothing to do with the ocean’s gentle swells. “Are you sure there are no sharks out here?”

“Yes, Stiles, for millionth time, there are no sharks.” Derek rolls his eyes, but he smiles at him.

“I saw a thing on tv that the best way to fight off a shark is to punch it in the nose. I don’t think I’d be very effective at that. You could though. Would you punch a shark in the face for me?”

Derek laughs, and Stiles melts. “Yeah, Stiles. I’d punch a shark for you.”

“What about a giant squid? Do you know that they have some of the largest tentacles in the world? That they can suck more than a hundred pounds per square inch? Would you fight a giant squid for me?”

“Yes, you weirdo, I’d punch a giant squid in the face for you.”

Stiles cackles. “I don’t think they have faces, dude.”

Their knees knock together, and Derek splashes him. “I’d still punch it to save you.”

“Aww, thanks buddy. But the real test of ocean-attack related friendship is the jellyfish hypothetical. Would you, Der? Would you pee on me if I were stung by a jellyfish?”

Derek crosses his arms and shakes his head, not even taking a moment to think about his answer. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Dude, seriously? You’d let me suffer in agony?”

“Urinating on a jellyfish sting is a myth. It makes the pain worse.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve been stung several times. The best thing to do is to wash the venom out with ocean water. So that’s what I’d do for you if you were stung.”

Stiles knows they’re only joking around, but it still makes him strangely happy, how sincere and thoughtful Derek is. He’s entertaining Stiles’ silliness, sure, but something about his eyes, lined from a lifetime of laughter in the sun, tells him that Derek really cares.

“Okay,” Stiles contemplates, getting more into this game of hypotheticals. “We’ve covered nautical attacks. Now to test your friendship in land-based attacks. Would you save me from a werewolf?”

Derek crooks up an absurdly unruly eyebrow. “Werewolf? Really? And why I am always saving you?”

“You’re always saving me because this is my game, and I can be the damsel in distress if I wanna be. And yes, werewolf. Or vampire. Any manner of mythical beastie. Perhaps an evil werewolf-lizard hybrid. Would you fight them for me?”

“Yeah,” Derek grins. “I’d fight them all.”

“And what about in the zombie apocalypse? Would you let me into your group of survivors?”

Derek looks at him quizzically. “Let you in? I’m pretty sure you’ll be the one in charge.”

“Dude, that is so the right answer!”

Derek rolls his eyes. “So the question is, would _you_ let _me_ in?”

“Well that depends,” Stiles smirks, crossing his arms and trying his best to look skeptical. “What can you offer the group?”

A slightly larger upswell knocks their boards closer together, and Derek reaches out reflexively to grab Stiles’ wrist, steadying him. “Well, I can punch sharks in face, and giant squids too, even though they don’t have faces. I can effectively treat a jellyfish sting, and fend off evil werewolf-lizard beasts.”

Stiles snorts, pulse racing under Derek’s hand, still wrapped around his wrist. “And you’re an excellent surf instructor.” Derek’s thumbing over the mound of his thumb, eyes soft on his. Stiles swallows. “And uh, you know, that’s an important skill for the zombie apocalypse.”

“Everyone knows zombies can’t surf.” Derek grins, and Stiles melts some more, feels like he might slip right off his board and sink to the bottom of the ocean with the weight of his love.

It’s getting cooler as the sun goes down, so they paddle in, still talking and teasing. “Okay, then, you’ve passed the friendship tests for supernatural attacks. What are some other things you would do for me? True tests of friendship. How about going with me to the midnight showing of the _Black Widow_ movie, in costume. I get to be Natasha. You in?”

Derek stands now that they’re almost to shore, scooping his board under arm. Stiles follows suit, but with far less grace and agility, fumbling awkwardly with the unwieldy board. Derek smirks at him, adorably. “You want me to be Clint, Steve, or Bucky?”

Stiles throws his head back and cackles, delighted. “That’s a pretty great answer for someone who read his first comic only six months ago.”

Derek shrugs. “What can I say? Your love of them got me interested. Now I love them too.”

They walk up the beach to the parking lot and lie their boards in the back of Derek’s truck, grabbing a couple towels from the cab and heading over to the outdoor shower, tugging on the zipper strings of their stiffening wetsuits. “Don’t worry about rinsing it,” Derek tells him, cranking on both of their showers and then peeling off his own suit. “I’ll hose them down at home.”

Stiles nods, unsure of what _exactly_ Derekis saying because _godfuckingdamnit_ , Derek is pretty much naked now, the jerk choosing to wear short, tight swim trunks that are barely more than a freaking speedo. They’re bright red and on the back, centered above his ungodly perfect ass, is the logo for a surf company that Derek has _actually_ modeled for, and Stiles would really like to know what evils he committed in a past life to earn this torture.  

For the sake of his dignity, he looks down and away, focusing intently on slithering inelegantly from his borrowed wetsuit and tossing it to the ground with Derek’s, letting the harsh spray of blistering hot water distract him from the chiseled specimen of bare-skinned, hairy perfection a mere foot away. He can’t help but glance over at him again though, like a moth to a flame, and out of the corner of his eye Stiles watches Derek pull the elastic band from his hair, his luxurious locks tumbling down to dance across his broad shoulders. Derek runs his hands though it, rinsing out the saltwater, and then he runs his hands through his beard too, and god, what Stiles would give for a chance to put his own hands in that dark pelt, to feel a kiss haloed by its rough edges.

Stiles turns jerkily, putting his back to Derek, cursing the tight cling of his board shorts that betray his inability to control his attraction to his closest friend. Over the rush of water Stiles thinks he hears a sharp intake of breath; he glances over his shoulder and sees Derek, staring at his back, inscrutable look on his face, mouth slightly open, eyes dark. “Everything all right over there, big guy?” He quips, voice only shaking a bit.

Derek blinks owlishly, and then glares, eyebrows scrunching together fiercely, which Stiles somehow finds even more adorable. “Your back is bruised,” he says, stepping closer. “From when you wiped out.”

Stiles grunts. “You’re going to have to be more specific, dude.” He lifts his arms and twists around, can’t see anything, of course, but he is starting to feel a pretty tender spot forming on his back, just below his ribs. It’s one of several new bruises, he’s sure, and he knows his muscles will be sore as hell tomorrow too, but right now he feels nothing but the ever-so-light and gentle press of Derek’s fingertips against his skin, exploring the growing bruise.

“Does that hurt a lot?” he asks, concerned, standing behind him so close Stiles can feel his breath fluttering behind his ear, making him shiver

“Not a lot,” Stiles answers, digging his nails into his palms and closing his eyes.

Derek moves his hand up, traces his fingers over bottom ribs, pressing lightly, like he’s looking for fractures. “Any pain here?”

Stiles twists his neck back to look at him, is immediately transfixed by the tiny little drops of water clinging to his long, black eyelashes. “N-no.”

Derek puts a little more pressure on the bruise, flattening his palm against his back. “How’s this?” he mumbles, so close Stiles swears he can feel his lips in his hair.

“That’s good,” Stiles manages to mumble, barely breathing.

Derek doesn’t move right away, lingers much longer than the already unnecessary touch, leaving his bruised skin flaming hot with the ghost of possibility when he finally does step away, ducking under the showerhead one last time before switching it off. Stiles does the same and takes the oversized beach towel Derek hands him, and is eternally grateful when Derek wraps the other around his hips. He still looks insanely sexy, of course, but at least now Stiles can start to find his bearings after whatever _that_ was (although the shy smiles Derek keeps giving him as they walk back to the truck don’t really help with that).

When they get back to the truck they throw on hoodies and sit on the tailgate, and Derek retrieves two beers from a cooler and pops the tops off with a bottle opener on his keychain. “Don’t tell your dad,” he says with wink when he hands one to Stiles.

“Are you going to say that every time you give me a beer?”

“Until you turn twenty-one, you bet your ass I am.” Derek taps their bottles together. “To a good first day on the water. We’ll make a surfer outta you yet, Stilinski.”      

“You gonna be around when I turn twenty-one?” Stiles asks, skeptical. That’s almost two years from now, and yeah, they’re just friends, but it still means something, doesn’t it, that Derek might actually be thinking that they have a future, any future?

“If you want me to be,” Derek says quietly. He takes a long pull from his beer, and Stiles watches the long, muscled column of his scruffy throat, mesmerized. “Is that another one of your hypotheticals?”

“Huh?” Stiles asks dumbly, dazed.

“Your hypothetical friendship tests. Did I pass that one too?”

Stiles grins and sips at his own beer. “With flying colors.”

“Good. Any other questions?”

Inspired, Stiles, completely serious now, turns to him. “Will you come with to tell my dad that I changed my major from pre-med to art because I want to write and draw comics for a living? I still haven’t told him and I think he’s going to be pissed.”

“I imagine it’ll probably go something like the conversation I had with my parents when I told them I was quitting college to become a professional surfer. Of course I’ll go with you.”

Stiles is surprised at the rush of relief he feels, the prospect of telling his dad suddenly much less terrifying if Derek’s going to be there. “What did they say, when you told them?”

“‘Surfing’s a hobby, son, not a career.’” Derek mocks, laughing and setting his beer down so he can gather up his damp hair back into a messy bun. As hot as that is to watch, Stiles still wishes he could tell him not to, that he likes Derek like this, hair gathered around his face like a mane, somehow making him both wilder and softer, fluffier. “Usual parent crap. But, even though they fought me on it, they were at my first major competition, and no one was more excited than they were when I won. Even if you’re dad gets upset, from everything you’ve told me, he sounds like a reasonable guy. He’ll come around.”

“Thanks, Derek. It means a lot to me, that you’d help me with talking to him.”

“Just trying to pass the test,” Derek teases, elbowing Stiles’ arm.

“I’d do the same for you, you know,” Stiles says, realizing suddenly that he’s been making all kinds of hypothetical demands on Derek but offering nothing in return.

Derek side-eyes him with a crooked up eyebrow. “I think my parents have come to terms with my surfing career by now. But, uh, thanks for the offer?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and groans, punching him playfully on his stupidly rock-hard bicep. “The friend stuff, you nerd. I’d do all the friend stuff for you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Stiles mutters, heart starting pound, feeling the rush of words starting to form, and, spurred on by the wide-eyed hope in Derek’s eyes and the memory of his hand on his back and his breath on his neck, he decides not to hold them back anymore. “All of the friend stuff, you name it, I’m there for you. And, um…the more-than-friends-stuff-too,” he mumbles in a rush, gulping at his beer. “I know you said you weren’t interested in dating me and that’s totally cool, but, you know, um, I don’t know if you’ve maybe changed your mind or something, or maybe you’d just wanna fool around or whatever, I could be cool with that. I mean, I could work on being cool with that because that might actually being really difficult for me because I’m pretty much head over – “

“Stiles, I never said I wasn’t interested.”

Stiles is thankful for the interruption so he can finally try to breathe somewhat normally again. “Dude!” he says, once he’s recovered, still a little stunned that he’s actually doing this, that he actually just _said_ all of that. “You totally rejected me. Do you get asked out so often that you honestly don’t remember or something?”

Derek gives him a withering stare. “I remember perfectly. And I said that I didn’t think it was a good idea, not that I wasn’t interested.” He jumps down from the tailgate and turns to face Stiles, standing between his knees, eyes glittering as he looks down at him. “I’m very, very interested. And I no longer think it’s a bad idea.”

“Oh.” Derek steps closer, the towel around Stiles’ waist falling aside as he plants himself solidly between his thighs. “Why, um, why did you think it wasn’t a good idea?”

Derek reaches for his hand, entwining their fingers. “I’m a lot older than you,” he explains. “But mostly because I was scared. Of how attracted to you I was, I _am_ , of how much I like you.” Derek’s eyes fall to stare at his mouth, the heat in his gaze taking Stiles’ breath away again. “Of how much I wanted you. I haven’t had the best luck in relationships, and I was scared. And shocked.” With his other hand, he cups Stiles jaw and thumbs across his cheekbone, eyes dancing across his face like he’s seeing something spectacular, and Stiles knows his own face must look very much the same. “I was prepared for a lot things, coming back to college after so many years away. But I wasn’t prepared to fall in love.”

The gasp that shakes between them comes from Stiles, an awed, shocked sound of happiness that bubbles up from his heart as he falls against Derek in relief, in _joy_ , burying his face in the chest hair exposed by his half-zipped hoodie. Derek stiffens for the briefest of moments, as if this new intimacy surprises him, but then he sighs into Stiles’ hair and wraps his arms around his back, pulling him closer.

Derek’s arms feel even better than Stiles imagined, his chest hair even softer against his own scruffy cheek. Derek’s big hand tugs gently on his hair to pull him up into a tentative, soft kiss, his wide mouth tasting faintly of saltwater. Stiles has fantasized about kissing Derek countless times, but no amount of daydreaming could prepare him for just how soft Derek’s lips are, or how warm his tongue is, how tender and affectionate he is, cradling him against his chest like he’s sacred even as he deepens the kiss, licking into his mouth feverishly, like he’s devouring him and worshipping him all at once.

When they finally break apart, foreheads falling to rest against each other, both of them panting lightly, he runs his hands up Derek’s thickly-corded neck and into his hair, nestling his fingers under his absurdly sexy bun, _finally_. “Will you kiss me like that forever?” Stiles asks, even though he already knows the answer.


	2. That's What I was Gonna Say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smutty smut lies ahead! Read the tags!

“I’m a virgin,” Stiles blurts out, wincing adorably as he looks down at him, mouth red and swollen with beard burn that makes Derek preen with pride. They’re both shirtless, Stiles straddling his lap as he leans against the back of the cushioned deck chair. They’ve been feverishly making out and grinding against each other ever since they got back to Derek’s house and he led him out onto the bedroom balcony overlooking the ocean. “It’s not like I’m totally inexperienced or anything,” Stiles stammers on, heart pounding under Derek’s palm. “I’ve just never, you know.” He swallows hard, long lashes fluttering rapidly, and Derek falls even more in love.

Derek looks up at him, breath catching in his throat at the sight of his wide, beseeching eyes, dark pools of whiskyed honey that he can’t seem to stop drowning in. He steadies himself, gripping Stiles’ hips and pushing him away, down his thighs a bit so their rigid, insistent cocks aren’t rubbing together through their sweats anymore. “We’ll stop,” he pants, reaching up to trace his fingers across his ruddy cheek, connecting the beauty marks he’s been dreaming of kissing since the first day they met. “We’ll take it slow.”

“Derek,” Stiles grunts, squirming to get back into the cradle of his hips. “We’ve been taking it slow for months.”

“We just kissed for the first time a couple hours ago, Stiles.” Derek’s voice shakes a little over a gasp that escapes when Stiles rocks down again, sending pulses of throbbing heat through his dick and up his spine.

“You know what I mean, dude. This –” Stiles rolls his hips again, gently this time “ – is new. But _we’re_ not new. You’re my best friend and I’ve been in love with you for months.” He leans down to kiss him, tender and sweet, sighing into Derek’s mouth and petting his beard, his rich, intoxicating voice barely a whisper. “I want you, now.”

Derek kisses the hollow of his neck. “Are you sure?”

Stiles nods. “I know virginity’s just a social construct or whatever, and it’s not like I’ve been saving myself or anything…but… I think it’ll feel like something important, if it’s with you.”

Heart pounding, Derek nods. “I’d be honored to be your first, love.”

Stiles rolls his eyes at the endearment, but his goofy grin belies the sarcasm. “Okay, good. So, um.” He reaches down and cups Derek’s cock through his sweats, long fingers stroking, and Derek can’t help but thrust up into the touch. “You, uh, feel pretty big. Which, is like, really fucking exciting, don’t get me wrong, big guy. Hah. Get it? Big guy?”

“Stiles – ”

“I’m all for taking what you got to give, but I’ve, only had, like, a few fingers up there a couple times so we’re gonna have to work up to it, okay?” He lets out a nervous breath, fingers curling into Derek’s hair, shaking it lose from its bun.

Smiling, Derek seizes him by the waist and pulls him even closer. “I actually prefer to bottom, if that’s okay with you.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open and then snaps closed again, eyes bulging a bit. “Oh fuck yes,” he breathes, lurching forward to press a sloppy kiss into Derek’s neck, just over his throbbing pulse.

Derek grins and stands, lifting Stiles off his lap and gently tossing him to the chair, laughing at his yelp of surprised delight. “I’ll be right back,” he says, leaning down to kiss him. “When I come back, you should be naked.”

He winks and Stiles’ answers with a groan. Derek goes in the French doors that lead into his bedroom, more excited and turned on than he’s ever been about anyone, heart racing like it’s his first time too.

Derek hasn’t had a serious relationship in years, and while his singlehood has hardly been celibate, he’s still never been this exhilarated, this… _happy_. Part of him wants to curse himself for saying no to Stiles all those months ago when he first asked him out when he thinks about how they could have been doing this months ago. But he knows that this way, taking the time to get to know each other without the pressure of romance or sex, especially given their age difference and Derek’s fear of relationships, was the best for both them.

Every moment with Stiles has been a gift, ever since the day that loose-limbed, plaid-clad force of nature, all glittering, wild eyes and mischievous pink mouth, stumbled into his life and turned it upside down in the very best way. And the age difference doesn’t matter to him anymore, and all of Derek’s hesitations and fears seem insignificant, now that he’s held Stiles in his arms and finally kissed that mouth and felt, with a surety that he’s never known about anything, that Stiles loves him too.

And now, tonight under the stars overlooking the Pacific, the one place in all the world Derek feels truly at peace, Stiles has asked him to make love to him for the first time, and Derek feels like his chest might explode with the energetic pounding of his heart and the swells of loving awe and affection he feels. He strips out of his sweats and heads to the bathroom, washes up quickly and then grabs lube from the nightstand on his way back out to the balcony, giddy with excitement.

Stiles is a vision, pale skin glowing in the moonlight, long legs splayed wide, leaning back in the chair, idly stroking his hard, flushed cock. Derek swallows hard and goes a little lightheaded, unable to stop staring at those long, unbearably erotic fingers working his impressive length, his balls aching and ass twitching in anticipation.

Stiles seems to be a little stunned too, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes blown wide with lust where they’re locked on Derek’s cock, heavy and hard. “Fuck, you’re so _hot_ ,” Stiles mewls, jumping to his feet in a burst of frenetic energy, hands running wild over Derek’s abs and chest, mouth sloppy and eager in his beard.

Derek manages to wrangle him into a proper kiss, laughing, cupping a hand behind his head to settle him. Stiles’ hands, hands that Derek has imagined inside of him countless times, fit perfectly around his ass, and he clutches and squeezes, making them both moan. Derek presses their foreheads together, then kisses lovingly down his neck to his collarbone, bony and sharp, lets his mouth rest in the hollow of his throat, breathing in the musky-sweet smell of his skin, still slightly salty from their day surfing. Falling to his knees, Derek worships down his lean torso, his lust burning hotter more as he licks down the stripe of hair that runs down Stiles’ taut abs, closing his eyes to better feel the coarse strands on his tongue, sucking tender lovebites across his belly, throaty groans of pleasure rising from his chest as he marks him up.

Stiles’ hands tangle in his hair as he works his way down, licking and nuzzling. When he gets to the base of his cock, Derek leans back to look up at him, mouth watering. His dick is gorgeous, long and uncut like his own, a thick vein running along the side of his shaft that Derek can’t wait to learn every throb and contour of. He traces it with a featherlight fingertip, smiling at the hiss that sneaks through Stiles’ parted lips, a drip of clear fluid bubbling from his slit. Derek darts his tongue out to catch it, the taste of him sparking on his tongue, smiling when Stiles tugs on his hair in surprise. Derek wraps his mouth around the tip of his cock, and his eyes roll and flutter in satisfaction, even though he’s trying to keep his gaze steady on Stiles’ face, doesn’t want to miss a moment of the blissed out, glowing look there, somehow even more extraordinarily beautiful from this angle and with the musky-sweet taste of him filling his mouth.

Derek is no stranger to giving head, and he focuses on remembering all of his tricks to make this best he’s ever given and the best Stiles has ever received, wants makes everything new for him, wants to make Stiles forget every other man’s touch. He follows the curve of the pulsing vein, his cock velvety and smooth under his tongue. Derek works his balls with his one hand and his shaft with the other while he licks and teases for as long as he can hold back, and then, finally, swallows him all the way down until his head hits the back of his throat. “ _Of course_ you don’t have a gag reflex,” Stiles babbles breathlessly, fingers tightening in his hair, the vibrations from Derek’s answering laugh making him buck his hips further into his eager mouth.

Stiles starts to pull back, an apology breaking over his grunts, but Derek stops him with a hand on his ass, pulling him close, granting permission. Stiles thrusts again, tentative, and Derek nods in reassurance, opening his mouth even more so Stiles can fuck his throat.

Derek focuses on squeezing his lips around him as Stiles’ narrow hips buck and jerk, stroking his own cock with one hand, squeezing Stiles' ass with the other. Stiles is muttering curses and praise and pulls even harder on Derek's hair, the sweet-hot pain sizzling jolts of electric pleasure straight to his dripping cock. Derek slips the hand on his ass into his soft cleft, pressing a finger to his tight rim, and then Stiles is pulling his hair more, a warning to go with the urgent huff of Derek’s name, pulling out of his mouth and dragging his cock across Derek's cheek, hot, sticky ribbons of come striping his beard.

Smiling and licking his lips, Derek stares up at him, transfixed by the glow of his cheeks and the dazed, blown out shimmer in his eyes. Stiles’ body goes slack with the last throes of his orgasm, swaying, Derek’s hands on his hips the only thing keeping him upright. Ignoring his throbbing cock, Derek stands and scoops him up, his legs slipping easily around his waist, arms settling around his neck as Derek carries him over to a fully reclined deck lounge made for two and sets him down gently on his back. He crawls on top of him, cock brushing against his belly, and kisses him, slow and gentle, nibbling at his bottom lip when he pulls away. Gazing into his glittering eyes, his hair falling in a dark cascade around thier faces, tickling at Stiles' reddened cheeks, Derek whimpers with revelatory bliss when Stiles starts to run his fingers through the mess in his beard, spreading his into his skin, like he wants Derek to smell like him.

Stiles is mumbling, almost incoherently, come-dazed and exquisite. “Don’t you worry, big guy,” he’s saying, “I’m still gonna fuck you. I can get hard again in no time. Especially with you and your nakedness all up on me and my come dripping from your beard.”

Derek laughs into his neck, deliberately scraping his messy cheek into Stiles’ reddened neck, delighting in his love’s youthful stamina. “No rush, baby. We’ve got forever, remember?.”

**~*~**

Derek rises above him, forearms braced on either side of his head, looking into his wide, dreamy eyes. “Do you want me to get myself ready?”

Stiles blinks hard and fast the way he does when he’s excited and his thoughts are racing. “Um…can I,” he huffs out, voice huskier that Derek’s ever heard it before. “I’ve never, um, actually done that for someone, and I really want to, for you.”

“I want that, too,” Derek answers throatily, kissing him again before rolling off of him, settling on his hands and knees and arching his back, shivers of electric want spinning up and down his spine at the sharp intake of breath he hears when Stiles rises to his knees behind him. Derek reaches back with one hand to spread himself, presenting his hole for him, biting his lip at the whimper Stiles lets out.

“Fuck, Der,” he whines. “I might fucking blow just looking at you right now,” he mutters. “Yeah, definitely no worries about getting hard again,” he rambles on, hands shaking a bit as he starts to tentatively run them down Derek’s back, the tip of his cock brushing against the back of his thigh. “Virgin stamina is seriously underrated, you know.”

Laughing, Derek lets his head fall to the bed, hair falling around his face. “I love you so much,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, thrilled with the undeniable truth of it, at the rush of pleasure he feels from finally saying it aloud.

Stiles falls across his back in an urgent heap, arms clamping around his chest, mouth hot and eager on his neck. His words are broken mumbles that mostly get lost in Derek’s hair, but he’s pretty sure he says “not as much as I love you, big guy,” and Derek laughs again while Stiles starts to kiss down his back, babbling appreciation and adoration.

Stiles traces the curves of his tattoo with his tongue and tells him that he tastes like the ocean, weaves down the slope of his back with his kiss-swollen lips. When he gets his hands on his ass, squeezing and rubbing, mouth hovering over his cleft as he spreads him further, Derek makes a needy, broken sound that he barely recognizes as coming from himself.

“Derek,” Stiles mumbles into the curve of his ass. “Can I eat you out? I’ve never…and, fuck, I really wanna do that for you.”

Derek makes that noise again, and that’s all the encouragement Stiles needs. He licks, hot and wet, from his balls up to his hole, hungry, the slick flat of his tongue exploratory, spreads him wider and teases him with the tip of his tongue, lips brushing against his rim when he speaks again. “I wanna be so good for you, Der. Will you tell me how you like it, what you want?”

Derek’s head falls between his shoulders, body firing with sparks of demanding heat. “Fuck, Stiles…I want,” he gasps, words tumbling out in a rush of want. “I want your tongue…I want you to fuck me open with your mouth and your hands and then I want you fill me up with your cock, want you to fill me up with your come.”

Stiles rests his face on Derek’s ass with a trembling sigh, his patchy whiskers scraping, making Derek shiver and shudder. “Goddamn,” he whispers, lips wet on his tender skin. “You’re so fucking perfect, Der, how are you even real?”

“That’s what I was gonna say,” Derek mumbles into where he’s biting into his forearm, as Stiles’ big hands massage his ass and hold him open wide, licking at him again before dropping a heavy bead of spit into his hole and finally, mercifully, slipping his tongue in. A deep, thankful groan of pleasure rumbles from Derek’s chest, harmonizing with the long, muffled grunt of delight Stiles makes. What Stiles lacks in experience he more than makes up for in enthusiasm, fucking his tongue into him and sucking at his rim with unbridled passion, and Derek melts beneath him, muscles quivering and hole unfurling, giving in completely, come-flaked beard scratching against the fabric under his cheek as he rocks his hips back against his mouth, body growing hotter and hotter, skin feeling thinner and thinner with each thrusting lick.

Stiles slips two long fingers in alongside his tongue, both of them groaning at how easily Derek opens for him. Stiles pulls his mouth away but keeps fingering him, exploring and stretching, while he fumbles for the bottle of lube. He drizzles some, slick and cool, over his fingers, making Derek hiss, and slides in another. He gently twists and scissors his fingers, fucking him slowly, and Derek’s body lights up even more, racing towards a blistering climax. “You feel so good inside, Derek,” he mewls, voice husky and awestruck. “So hot and tight.”

Cock throbbing and dripping, Derek spreads his knees wider and fists at the cushion. “Stiles,” he breathes, not asking for anything but just loving the sound of his name, the feel of it in his mouth as this astonishing boy undoes him like no other has even come close.

“Tell me what you want again,” Stiles orders with a confidence beyond his years, sliding in a fourth finger, Derek’s breath hitching at the sweet-hot burn of the stretch.

“You,” he pants, rocking his hips instinctively. “I’m ready for you, Stiles, come on, fuck me.” Derek crawls away from him, fingers slipping free, rolling gracefully onto his back, needing to see the look on Stiles’ face when he loses his virginity.

Stiles crawls on his knees between his thighs, eyes nearly black and impossibly wide when Derek hooks one leg over his shoulder and rolls his hips up, holding himself open with his hands. Dazed, Stiles scoots closer, cock in hand, eyes rolling back when he presses his tip against his slick, ready hole. Derek watches every twitch and flutter of his gorgeous face, Stiles staring down at him just as intently, both of them stunned by lust and love. Stiles pushes into him slowly at first, but then loses control and shoves in rushed and jerky with an apologetic groan.

Derek bites back a small moan, the pain quickly blossoming into hot waves of pleasure as he adjusts to being so full. Stiles clutches on to the leg he has on his shoulder, nails digging into his shin, his other hand clutching at the inside of his thigh. Panting, buried to the hilt, he's still, as if he's afraid to move, so Derek rocks his hips up and down in slow roll, setting a slow, teasing rhythm.

Throwing his head back, Stiles whines, hips suddenly bucking so hard he almost slips out of him completely, gasping. Derek stills this time, letting him steady himself. His leg slips off his shoulder and Stiles falls across his chest, attacking his mouth with a sloppy kiss as he thrusts back in. Derek wraps his arms around his back and his legs around his waist, clenching tight around his thick cock, Stiles rutting faster, Derek holding him tight.

Stiles breaks the kiss but not his rhythm, gazes down at him, hands buried in his hair, breathing hard. Derek’s cock is trapped between them, sliding between their sweaty bellies, Stiles' cock is ramming into his prostate with each powerful thrust, and it soon Derek’s orgasm is rippling through him in blistering pulses, a bone-shaking rush that has him crying out and gripping at Stiles’ back, his hips bucking wildly, ass clenching even tighter around him, cock shooting a heavy, sticky load onto his stomach. Stiles comes too, keening into Derek’s neck and sanpping his hips, thrusting with shuddering heaves as he spills into him.

Huffing, Stiles goes limp on top of him with groan, slipping out of him with a deliciously obscene squelch that makes Derek’s still-hard cock twitch. He rolls to the side so he’s only half lying on him, head resting on his chest. Derek keeps his arms wrapped around him, still holding him close. Stiles tangles his hand in Derek’s chest hair, teasing at his nipples, trailing them down to gather up Derek’s come from his abs and then brings his fingers to his mouth, smiling up at him as he sucks them clean.

Marveling, Derek watches him, spent cock twitching. He pulls him up into a kiss, overcome with the need to taste himself on Stiles’ tongue, licking into his mouth. He cradles his jaw, thumbing over his plump bottom lip. “You’re incredible,” he mumbles.

“That’s what I was gonna say,” Stiles answers, voice heavy and sleepy, body curling tighter around him. “I love you.”

Derek smiles into his hair and pulls him even closer. “That’s what I was gonna say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it, darlings! I hope you liked it. XOXO

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [deleted-scenes](http://deleted-scenes.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. Come tumble with me, lovelies.


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